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Archive for August, 2013

To say I’m struggling right now would be a clear understatement. I’m holding my head above water and all, but just barely. Some days are worse than others. Some days I want to quit life and just hide until I feel better. Clearly not a good plan though, so I push forward.

When I get like this it’s hard to see clearly the motivation fueling my actions, and the consequences aren’t always clear. I have to question and second guess almost every decision I make, wondering if I’m self sabotaging. I’m good at that after all. Last week saw me doing something I would have seriously regretted beyond measure if I hadn’t been offered forgiveness I still question if I deserve.

This week school started back up after a week off between trimesters.

I’m working 45-50 hour weeks right now on top of trying to settle my life and I can’t help but feel that adding a school work load, however easy the class may be, to the plate just isn’t the best idea. I do my best work under pressure, I’ve said this so many times, but it is true. But the thing is, no matter how solid the material, everything cracks under pressure eventually if you only apply too much. I don’t want to crack. That is not healthy.

Logically, I’d been planning to take the occasional trimester off anyway. No, not the second trimester available to me, but there was never a set, “I’ll go this trimester, and take this one off” schedule. I always just assumed I’d know when it was wise to take one off and left it at that.

If I take this one off, that gives me until January to, if not completely at least get much closer, get my shit together. I need to finalize a divorce, find a place to live, move in, and keep up my delicate hold on stable. This also gives me until January before I have to tell a kid I don’t see like I use to, that momma can’t play now, she’s writing a paper.

Mental health wise, burying myself in my school is a great distraction. It is also, however, a distraction that piles on stress and stress is something I need to self sooth from. Proper self soothing, like reading, movies, exercise, friends, or even just long walks, takes time. No matter how easy the class, the work load takes any and all free time. I have so much I need to self sooth from as it is, taking away my time to do so might well be costly. So not taking classes lets my refocus my mind on my needed DBT skills and get myself mentally healthy, with proper time in my week to do so.

Yesterday, when I first logically started looking at this option, was a really bad mental health day and I was so terrified I was running from life and obligation in doing this. Today, with a clearer head, for now at least, I think I can see that I’m not running from obligation, I’m simply prioritizing it and I’m not running from life, I’m simply finding it and settling it down.

I haven’t hit the drop button yet but I need to tonight if I’m doing this. My first bit of work is due tomorrow, and at this point of the game, 3 days into the trimester, dropping won’t affect anything GPA or aid wise. Waiting too long will.

Look, the decision to leave the kids with Pat was impossible and yet obvious. I grieve not waking to their fighting and kissing them goodnight every night, but it was a decision that had to be made with logic and not emotion.

First, while I am biologically their mother, he has been their primary caregiver from day one. He knows them better than I do, he has attended to their needs more than I have. I would be taking them from the parent that has raised them.

Financially, he will get an increase in government aid this way that he wouldn’t otherwise get. This may well make the difference between a roof over his head or not.

What do I do, have them live with me then put them in daycare 6 days a week while I work?

No, they are right where they should be. My heart didn’t want to leave them with him, but it was sound, though painful, logic. I’ll see them all the time. Custody will be shared. He will never deny me access. It’s simply where they live.

It hurts like hell.

But the right thing is rarely easy and very rarely is the easy thing ever right.

I’ve spent all week so far telling people I see daily, one by one, what I did. I tell them as I find the breath, the power to get the words out. See, in comparison leaving Pat was easy. I wasn’t happy. I haven’t been happy. I was not going to ever get magically happy. So I put us both out of our misery. It’s the bit that follows that crushes my chest in, taking away my ability to breath. My ability to get the words out.

I didn’t just walk out on my husband. I walked out on my kids too. I will see them all the time, yes. But never again will I tuck them in every night and wake to them every morning.

I need to walk away from this post now. The rest will come. I just need time. It’ll come in bits and pieces as I find the power to move fingers across keyboard.

It’s just after 11 Sunday night and I’m laying on the floor of the spare room at my mom’s under the ceiling fan, using the breeze as a sensory based self soothing tool, trying to find the motivation to unpack.

I walked out on my marriage today.

I’ll talk about it later. I can’t right now. Maybe not tomorrow either.

Thomas, still very matter of fact: You’re welcome. Can we start the movie now?

Sorry guys, this psych class is kicking my ass. I’m doing fabulous in it, though. Rocking a 99% with 2/3rds of it graded. However, it is very time-consuming. Rumor has it my next class is a little less intense. I could use the easy A. I’m working for this one, even knowing the subject going in.

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